Fitzgerald drew first and stepped to the podium. He was an excellent speaker and unabashedly told the gathering how he'd found the local sheriff's office in disarray and how it lacked up-to-date tools to deal with modern problems. The position of sheriff was administrative in nature-his strong suit. He'd recently employed a deputy who was doing a top notch job. His connections in Denver would get Ouray the attention it deserved. He knew the state, the town, and what the problems were. The office would change from a good ol' boy network to a professionally run operation.
Once Dean was standing at the podium and he'd controlled the shake in his knees and hidden the sweat on his palms, he felt he didn't do badly. He left critique of the prior sheriff's administration to Fitzgerald. He opined that working closely with the community was important, regardless of what you called a "network." In spite of Ouray's isolation, the world was getting smaller, he said, and with growth came the import of the same problems plaguing the rest of the country. He highlighted some of the teenage antidrug and alcohol programs he'd worked with over the years. "Ouray is blessed with far less violent crime than plagues much of the balance of the country and I hope to keep it that way," he said in ending. There was polite applause, a little less then followed Fitzgerald's words, or so thought Dean. Where were his enthusiastic lady supporters?
"Why do you feel you are better equipped to be our next sheriff than your opponent?" Claudia read from a card. Dean would answer first.
"I'm much more comfortable telling you why I feel capable of performing the duties than picking apart Mr. Fitzgerald," Dean said as he detailed his duties in direct police work and the experience he'd gained from them. "The final decision of which candidate is best suited for the job rests with you, the voters," he added.
Fitzgerald hardly waited for Dean to finish. "It's true Mr. Dean has been under fire-it's fortunate we're standing here today-not sitting. That might be painful, considering where Mr. Dean was shot!" If he expected a chuckle, he was disappointed. If anything, the audience looked askance at the crude comment. Dean himself had all he could do not to cold-cock the son of a bitch. "Let me give you an example of our differences," Fitzgerald continued. "Last week, citizen Dean came to my office demanding I chase down a childish hoax by crawling into a mine, purportedly in search of a dead body! Perhaps the prior sheriff thought that sort of little joke is funny. I didn't." He turned to Dean.